


Too Cute

by thebearking



Category: Black Panther (2018), Black Panther (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, POC Reader, POV Second Person, Protective T'Challa (Marvel), Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:10:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8997730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebearking/pseuds/thebearking
Summary: The Dora Milaje find you crying in your room for an unexpected reason.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i really wanted to write something for t'challa so i went ahead and did it. he's such a stud. i also included the dora milaje and created two other members named nceba and kuhle (both xhosa names, which i used since the language they use for wakandan in the movie is xhosa).
> 
> the reader here is a black woman. i hope to write more black!reader-inserts in the future :) enjoy!

You sniffled and used the sleeve of your sweatshirt to wipe away yet another tear. You didn’t mind crying in private, but when the tears interfered with your vision, you had to at least acknowledge their existence, even if it meant smudging your eyeliner.

“My lady, are you alright?”

You spun around in your seat to see Okoye poking her head through the half-open door, her dark eyes filled with concern. Beyond her you saw the rest of the Dora Milaje peering into the room over her shoulder. You swore inwardly; while the Dora Milaje had watched over you for years, you hated letting them see you cry. “I’m fine, Okoye, thank you,” you said, struggling to keep the sob out of your voice.

“My queen, what troubles you?” Ayo opened the door fully, and she and the other women filed into the room, each settling in the lounge in the divans and armchairs around you. Ayo and Aneka settled on the sofa on either side of you. You didn’t miss the worried glance they exchanged over your head.

You squirmed in your seat, and Ayo’s gaze fell to your lap, to the phone in your hands. “It’s nothing, I promise,” you mumbled, leaning back against the couch cushion and holding the phone to your chest.

Aneka arched one perfectly shaped brow and held her hand out. Guiltily, you handed her the phone, and she turned it over to study the screen. Her mouth fell open, and after a few seconds of tense silence, you could see her eyes becoming glassy. “Your majesty—”

“Aneka, what is it?” Ayo demanded. “Let me see.” Aneka held the phone out to her, and you mentally face-palmed while Ayo watched your screen with wide eyes. “This is—”

“Ayo, please, it’s just—” you protested, but the rest of the girls interrupted you.

“Let us see, too!”

“What is it, Ayo?”

“Is it inappropriate?”

One by one, the other bodyguards rose from their seats and moved to stand behind the couch, eager to get a look at your phone, which Ayo gingerly returned to you. You held it out at arm’s length for everyone to see, and you could feel the tears return to your eyes. Nakia handed you a handkerchief—black cotton with a beautiful gold print; you expected nothing less from such a well-dressed woman—and Okoye patted your shoulder comfortingly, even as she fought back her own tears.

At least now you weren’t the only one crying.

* * *

T’Challa returned from his duties eager for a warm meal and cuddling session with his queen-to-be. He opened the door to your shared quarters to see more women than he had expected. Most of the Dora Milaje were doubled over the back of the couch. He opened his mouth to speak and was interrupted by a resounding “aww” of adoration. He searched the room and found your shock of dark curls among the others. “My love? What is going on here?” he called out.

You sniffled. T’Challa rushed to you immediately, kneeling before you on the floor and checking your face for distress, for injury. There were tears in your eyes, as he’d expected, and your cell phone was in your hands. All the Dora Milaje were focused on the screen, watching with glistening eyes and opened mouths. Kuhle was covering her mouth with one hand, while Nceba had a look of pure delight. “What is it, my love?” he asked you tenderly. “Who has hurt you?”

You shook your head and turned the phone toward him.

T’Challa blinked. On your screen was a video of puppies—pugs, he realized upon further inspection. They couldn’t be more than couple weeks old, their eyes still shut as they crawled weakly across a downy dog bed in search of their mother. They were so small, so soft-looking, with their round dark faces and feeble little paws. T’Challa could see why they would affect you so intensely. He knew you had a soft spot for animals. Last week, for your birthday, he had arranged for the two of you to visit a Wakandan family who bred Rottweilers. You had turned to mush, simply lying down on the floor and allowing the puppies to smother you with cuteness and lick away your tears of joy. He chuckled at the memory, and at the pugs still wriggling across your screen. One let out a tiny, high-pitched chirrup, and the entire Dora Milaje squealed with delight—even Ayo, who cleared her throat and played it off cool afterward. Aneka smirked at her knowingly.

“You have been crying… because of these videos?” T’Challa asked, smiling at you.

You pouted and slouched further into the couch cushion, hiding your teary eyes behind your curls. The collar of your sweatshirt—his sweatshirt, he realized—muffled your voice as you replied sheepishly, “You know how I am with dogs, T’Challa.”

T’Challa laughed and leaned forward to kiss your pouty lips. He rose from the floor and sat down on the couch beside you, or rather under you, since you immediately nuzzled close to him. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you against him, and watched the video with you. One puppy paused, his pink mouth agape in a yawn. You gasped audibly.

“They are quite adorable,” T’Challa remarked. “Not as cute as you, but adequate.”

“They’re cuter than me and you know it,” you grumbled into his sleeve. T’Challa chuckled.

The video ended, and T’Challa sighed with relief. Perhaps now his bodyguards would disperse and he could finally enjoy some alone time with you. He turned to politely dismiss everyone and—

“Oh, my lady, what about that one!” exclaimed Nceba. “‘A Basket Full of Kittens’!”

You glanced up at T’Challa. He sighed in resignation and nodded; he supposed alone time with you could wait. You clicked the screen and the video began with several fluffy kittens milling about. One flopped onto its side, exhausted, revealing it’s round belly, and this time, it was T’Challa who gasped. If you turned to mush when it came to puppies, he was absolute putty when it came to kittens.

He would have to ask you about this YouTube channel later.

**Author's Note:**

> i too often cry because of animal videos. i'm mush.


End file.
